Too Many Maybe's

2014

I wasn't sure I'd get a reply to that message either. But then early Saturday morning a few days into the new year you answered. And we had our first fight.

It was funny because we talked so much about being just friends, not having sex, not seeing each other, and all of that. But we never fought about it. It was never angry. Even the few times you had hurt me, we talked with a longing and sadness. Never spite or annoyance. Until now.

For the first time, you told me straight. I could see why it hurt you, of course. But I pulled away because loving you always felt like a losing game. Especially when you had no time for me. I pulled away to put some distance between us. To protect my self. Lessen my feelings a bit. Or at least lessen my need for you because of those feelings. Like an alcoholic needing to sober up from time to time to regain some control. You saw it as me not caring. Just like I did with your long silences at stressful times. We were always really good at misunderstanding each other. Maybe because everything happened in the subtext and shadows.

But not this time. You showed some emotions beneath that perfect exterior. You poured out the truth. No more writing around it. It was the first time you reacted to me leaving. The first time you said plainly that you actually wanted me in your life instead of just accepting my presence or absence. Despite my very demanding insecurities and completely crazy way of overthinking things.

But you also gave me an ultimatum. "Give me everything, the whole crazy package or nothing at all," you said. "Make up your mind or let it all go."

It was completely fair of you to ask that of me. But you misunderstood my confusion. You thought it was because we had sex. That I couldn't handle that. But it had become the only thing that made any sense with us. So, I told you. That it was your absent-mindedness during my hardest times that scared me. That I was afraid of counting on you because you didn't give any indication of wanting to be there when it mattered. I told you what I should have just said the summer before, after the surgery when you started pulling me closer and closer again, while I still kept my distance. You'd been as in it as you could for nearly half a year, and I was still trying to forgive and forget. It also wasn't fair to you. And I know things would have been a lot different if I'd just spoken my mind instead of keeping everything buried inside. But it's hard to speak your mind when you don't trust it. When you're constantly wondering if you're actually feeling what you feel or if it's Anxiety and Depression playing you. I didn't keep things inside because I didn't trust you. I kept them from you because I didn't trust myself. I really need you to understand that even if it's all too late.

I didn't tell you the last part then either. I should have, but I didn't understand it enough to being to explain. Like Anxiety and Depression. I kept their pull on me from you. Because I didn't know how to communicate it all. I still don't. It's like breathing. So unconscious when you're out in the open air. You don't realize the importance of it until you're suffocating. Or your need for water and food. Such a normal thing in your life you don't give it any thought. Because it's constantly available to you. But imagine all sources of it at risk. Imagine the things you'd do and say to keep safe that which sustains you. Buried alive, you'll scratch your fingers to pieces to get out. And Anxiety is very much like a coffin and Depression the deep layers of dirt surrounding it.

But you sustained me as much as air, food and water, even deep in the ground. And I did everything to keep that safe. Mostly from myself of course, and the nuclear bomb inside me with the power to burn down our world. Maybe we could have risen from the ashes stronger. Or maybe we would have starved in the aftermath. I mostly believed in the latter, my sense of wonder too tired from a long and lonely life to believe in the hope of something better. You made me want to fight for that, though. But I didn't tell you.